


Pursuing Enquiries

by Mab (Mab_Browne)



Category: Hyakujitsu no Bara | Maiden Rose, Starsky & Hutch, The Professionals, The Sentinel
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Metafiction, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-21 00:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4807793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mab_Browne/pseuds/Mab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bodie and Doyle note that Mab Browne is taking more of an interest in them. They decide to ask her other favourite slash pairings how much trouble they might be in. Self-indulgent nonsense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pursuing Enquiries

**Author's Note:**

> Way back in 2003, on September 16, I posted my first story as Mab Browne, and now and again I write fic to post on that anniversary. This is one of those occasions. Given that my very first story as Mab was a death story, and that I have really evil plans for this year's Spook Me story, poor Jim and Blair are right to be a little pissed off with me.

There was a quick round of introductions: Bodie and Doyle, keeping England safe for Queen and Cowley; Taki Reizen and his knight, Klaus von Wolfstadt, currently fighting in some alternate universe World War; Starsky and Hutch, Bay City’s cops on the street; and Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg, tackling crime in the Pacific North-West.

“So, “Bodie enquired crisply “Just how much trouble are we in?”

Klaus, big and blond and all of it sprawled on the sofa, asked, “How much trouble do you want to be in?”

Taki was seated on his chair in a posture both utterly graceful and utterly correct, and quelled him with a look. “You’re not being helpful, Klaus.” A small frown creased a face of arresting beauty. “Her interest could be construed as flattering, but some of her obsessions are… regrettable.”

The tall Yank sitting on the desk, Jim Ellison, said dryly, “That’s one way of putting it. If I was you, I’d run. Hard, fast and far.”

Doyle, who was managing to lounge standing up almost as louchely as Klaus was doing reclining, said, “That’s not an option for Bodie and me, any more than it has been for you. So, let’s hear it. How bad does it get?”

Starsky and Hutch huddled shoulder to shoulder in the corner. Bodie felt a certain fellow feeling with them on the basis that they were the only men wearing a style of clothes that he and Doyle were familiar with. They looked at each other and then Starsky piped up. “The thing is, if she’s writing you, it does mean that she loves you.”

Hutch broke in. “Don’t sugar-coat it, Starsky. That woman loves us the way that a psycho loves puppies. Cutest when we’re broken and bloody.”

Blair fidgeted on his feet before he asked, “Has she killed either of you yet?”

“Killed us?” Bodie was shocked enough that his Received Pronunciation surrendered to his Liverpool origins. 

Doyle, grim-faced, asked, “Just how many of you lot has she killed, then?”

Taki raised his hand. Hutch raised his. After a brief shared look, Jim and Blair _both_ raised theirs. “Several times,” Jim said pointedly.

Doyle’s voice was almost reverent. “Bloody hell.”

Perhaps,” Taki said meditatively, “if you are very lucky, you will find that she doesn’t love you _that_ much.”

“We can only hope,” Bodie said. “She hasn’t written anything so far that we couldn’t handle and the story she’s done for Box of Tricks doesn’t look so bad. Pretty much an ordinary day at the office. ” Admittedly, there was more family angst than Clemens ever added.

“But with sex, right?” Blair asked slyly. And yes, more of that too, at least between Doyle and Bodie themselves.

Doyle’s eyes shone like green ice. “Wouldn’t you like to know, sunshine.”

“He absolutely does. Don’t encourage him,” Jim said wearily.

“Are you okay?” Blair asked.

“I’ve been getting dreams, Chief. Bully for our two English friends that they get an ordinary day at the office. I don’t think that you and I are going to be so fortunate in her next story.”

“Blue jungle dreams?”

Jim nodded, and Blair’s expressive face creased with foreboding. “Ohhhh, shit.”

“Makes me happy that she seems to have lost interest in us, blondie.” Starsky headed for the door.

“Not that much. She still thinks about us,” Hutch muttered. 

Starsky’s eyes gleamed with a light that could only be described as salacious. “Yes. Yes she does. And that’s not entirely a bad thing, now is it?” He looked over his shoulder at Bodie and Doyle, as a blushing but not displeased Hutch headed out the door with Starsky close behind. “Good luck, gents. You’re probably going to need it.”

Klaus had stood and was leaning over Taki, one hand on the back of his chair. He said softly in Taki’s ear, “Huh. She writes sex. First I knew about it.” 

Taki raised one hand in a gesture both exasperated and oddly flustered for such a self-possessed young man. “We will discuss that later.” He rose from his chair and bowed his head towards first Bodie and then Doyle. “I wish you well.” 

Klaus sketched a rough salute. “What he said.” They left too, in a swirl of big military coats.

Jim and Blair had seemed preoccupied, but now Blair came over and gripped first Bodie and then Doyle tightly on the upper arm. “Well, hey. I hope everything goes okay for you. She means well. Most of the time.”

Jim nodded gravely. “Come on, Sandburg. We’ll leave these lucky guys to it.”

They turned for the door, and Blair said agitatedly, “She kills me again, doesn’t she? Or she kills you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Blair’s exclamation of “Damn it, Jim, what is it with her and killing us off! She’s supposed to love us!” drifted away down the hall.

“Never thought that I’d regret looking better than ever.” Bodie tugged at the bottom of his jacket.

“Depends on your definition of better,” Doyle told him. “I have a feeling that she’s gagging for a look at the remastered Discovered in a Graveyard.”

“Well, yeah, but there you go. How much worse could she get than that bit of canon?”

“I don’t know,” Doyle said and shrugged, dropping some of the front now that the others had gone. He looked a touch haunted. “I heard a rumour that a lot of the fandom thinks I look beautiful when I suffer.”

Bodie felt a sensation that his granny used to call ‘the shrims’; something creeping and anxious. He tried to cover it up with a joke. “We’ll see about that, mate. Everyone knows that I’m the beautiful one around here.”

He paused a moment, almost superstitiously, but there was no lightning strike, no hand of a capricious god pouncing from the sky. Feeling a little better, he hauled Doyle along with one hand under an elbow. Maybe the others had exaggerated. Killed them, sure. But they all came back, didn’t they…?

**Author's Note:**

> Starsky & Hutch fans may note that I have no fic for that fandom as Mab. My S&H pseud is Dale Gardener, and you can find my stories here:
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/users/Dale_Gardener


End file.
